Plane ride to parenthood

March 12, 2013 by Beth Shepherd

One year ago, on March 12, we received a call from our adoption agency with the date we were to appear in court to finalize the adoption of our daughter. Less than 24 hours later (yes, less than 24 HOURS LATER!), Big Papa and I boarded a plane headed to London, where we would stay for two days and two nights before boarding a second plane to Armenia. Only a handful of people knew where we were going and why: Big Papa’s boss, our cat sitter, our pediatrician-to-be, my mother and sister, Big Papa’s cousins (who offered to help us out when we first got back home), and one close friend.

We had waited to take this plane ride for nearly four years and the idea that it was finally happening felt surreal. Only a year before, our pending adoption of another baby girl had fallen through, merely ten days before our scheduled flight. I found it hard to settle myself and put away the fear that something bad would happen this time too.

My mind revisited all the scenarios we’d faced along the way: two referrals, five trips to Armenia, multiple updates to our files and dossier, several trips to our local USCIS (U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services) office for several sets of fingerprints, numerous visits to our bank to have paperwork notarized, and a number of road trips to Olympia (our state’s capitol) to have our documents apostilled.

I recalled the RFE (Request for Evidence) that had us gripping edge of our seats in the cliffhanger that was our prior adoption attempt, the interminable angst as we waited for nearly three months to get resolution when that adoption was interrupted, the uncertainty of how to “undo” our Article 5 (final Hague approval from the U.S. Department of State), a situation–as we were told by our immigration agent–that no prospective adoptive parents had faced before, and then the crazed race to update our paperwork yet one more time so we could be eligible for a new referral.

Reverently, I remembered the soul-wrenching isolation I felt, and the deep dark depression, when I couldn’t share what was happening–what had happened–even with some of my closest friends, for fear that we might jeopardize the future of our adoption. I couldn’t talk about it. I couldn’t blog about it. The only thing I could do was stew about it.

I thought about all the excitement, disappointment, hope and heartache that led to this moment. And yet here we were, passports and suitcases in hand, getting on a plane, literally on our way to parenthood!

That’s when it hit me. We were really on our way: TO PARENTHOOD!

Hurry up and wait

August 24, 2009 by Beth Shepherd

Waiting makes me grit my teeth, pull my hair and worry. I’m a take charge, can do sort of gal. I like to get stuff done and make things happen. Patience is a virtue I’d do well to cultivate a bit more.

When we were doing our home study and getting all our documents together for our dossier, my to-do list was broad and deep. During that phase of the adoption process we were able to exert some semblance of control over the process.

Twenty questions to write answers to, no problem. A few online courses we need to chug through. Just log on the computer and get down to business. Five references to collect means we pick up the phone and call our friends. Fingerprinting, notary stamps, police clearances….check, check, check.

Once our dossier was safely translated and waiting in Armenia, then the real fun began, waiting, waiting and more waiting. Calling the shots goes out the window. You are at the mercy of bureaucratic process. Months can elapse without word and what is going on behind the scenes is a mystery.

Even once a family receives a referral or chooses a special needs child from the waiting list, there is still more waiting in store. In fact, when adopting from Armenia, receiving the Prime Minister’s approval is just the first step in the process. Several ministry committees still need to review your request before first one and then a month later, a second court date are assigned. Only then is your child officially yours to bring home.

It is maddening. With a few exceptions, if you get pregnant, nine months later there’s a baby. Not so with adoption. People always told me that the “waiting period” was the adoption equivalent of pregnancy. From where I sit, this feels different. Granted, I have never been pregnant so I am speaking from a place without experience. But it seems like pregnancy is a waiting period with known parameters, whereas waiting to adopt feels like limbo.

I walk through the world carrying my secret. Unless someone knows me and is aware of my story, there is no evidence that I am “paper pregnant.” I see round-bellied women at my local market and strangers walk up to them and ask, “When’s the baby due?” People give advice, bond over shared experiences, and celebrate a family in the making.

When friends and family ask me, “What’s taking so long?” I’m not sure how to respond. I wish I knew.

Truth is, even when I do get a snippet of information, I’m not able to share much. Most international adoption agencies request that families sign a non-disclosure agreement, requiring you to keep quiet on details such as the orphanage’s name for the baby or exact date the baby was born, the name of the orphanage and photos, until the adoption is finalized.

We’ve been advised that our adoption and the adoption process itself could be jeopardized if we do not adhere to the non-disclosure agreement. And even though we are given permission to, on a case-by-case basis, share a picture or general information, it is recommended that we do so cautiously.

So while I may ache to run through the streets screaming, “I’m gonna be a mom!” I need to sit mum, meditate privately on my good fortune and hope that folks occasionally divine the reality from the juicy tidbits and subtle clues I occasionally dole out.

Walk a mile in my shoes

May 29, 2009 by Beth Shepherd

A year ago, at the end of May, Big Papa and I started our adoption journey. I suppose the exact anniversary date is a bit hazy. It’s a bit like trying to pin down when a romantic relationship started. First date? First kiss? Everyone seems to have their own unique way to define when “it” all began.

I find that most everyone is amazed by how long international adoption takes and how much sweat equity is involved. When I’ve shared the news that we’re adopting people are incredulous when, some months later, they ask if we’re close to getting a kiddo and I tell them the blessed event could still be a year out.

We’re now at the stage where our dossier is in Armenia, translated and sitting in the Prime Minister’s office waiting for approval, which could take months. To get to this point, we had two major hurdles to vault, our Home Study and our Dossier.

Adoption Home Study

Everyone who adopts has must have a Home Study, which is a thorough background investigation by a licensed professional (generally a social worker) to determine whether the prospective adoptive parents are suitable to adopt. Big Papa and I filled out pages of answers to questions about our backgrounds, our family, our beliefs, our strengths and weaknesses, why we want to adopt, our relationship, a chronological history of each of our lives, jobs, hobbies, education…and much more. Between us we wrote twenty-six pages. We also attended a ten-hour training class which is required for anyone adopting from a Hague-convention country.

Then, our social worker interviewed us individually and twice as a couple, once in our home. I can’t tell you how many people make sure their homes are spic ‘n span, bake cookies, and primp and prepare for this moment. We tried not to obsess too much. I didn’t think our social worker was going to show up and perform the ‘white glove’ test. Where the rubber meets the road is the list of documents you collect:

1. Birth certificates for each and every resident of the household
2. Marriage certificate
3. Copy of three most recent Federal Tax Returns
4. Two most recent pay stubs confirming employment
5. Proof of insurance: health, life, other
6. Physician’s Report for each member of the household
7. Guardians: The complete name(s) address and phone number of the guardians of this child in the event of the death(s) of the applicants, and how this has been established
8. Five references, only one of which can be a family member
9. Child abuse clearances from every state and/or country you’ve ever lived in
10. Criminal clearances for all adult household members (this includes fingerprinting at the local police department)

Whew! I get tired just rereading the list. Completing the Home Study process took us about four months. Next, we filed our I-800a, which requests U.S. government permission to adopt an international orphan. This process took three months from submission to approval. We had to get FBI fingerprints and clearance for this stage. While we were waiting, we got busy putting together our Dossier.

Adoption Dossier

The dossier is a large packet of documents that the adoption agency submits to the country in which prospective parents are adopting from. Most of these documents also need to have both notary signatures and apostille seals (subject for another post!). Here’s a list of what was in our dossier, which was shipped late February:

1. Letter to Prime Minister requesting adoption of child
2. Copies of Passports
3. Authenticated Birth Certificates
4. USCIS Approval, also known as the I-171H or 797C form
5. Home Study (notarized agency license attached to back)
6. Personal Residence Description
7. Three blank white sheets of paper with signature
8. Employment Verification Forms
9. Letter of Recommendation
10. Letter of Recommendation
11. Letter of Recommendation
12. Letter of Recommendation – Pastor
13. Financial Statement: Liabilities and Assets
14. 1040 Form Copies – three years
15. Medical Exam Reports
16. Local Police Clearance
17. Marriage Certificate
18. Power of Attorney
19. Photo Page (Family, home, work, church, pets, vacation, nursery)

Yay for us! Our dossier is signed, sealed, delivered and speaking Armenian. It’s been one heckuva year, and Big Papa and I know we’re in for more of the same over the coming year. Adoption is a phenomenal paper chase. The accompanying waiting game is the mother-of-all-waits. The entire experience tests your metal and stick-to-in-ness.

Now when we see a family with, what appears to be, an adopted child, I smile and nod knowingly. We’ve walked in their moccasins.

A Fork in the Road

May 15, 2009 by Beth Shepherd

Adoption is not for the faint of heart. Navigating the twists and turns that you expect to encounter sounds relatively straight-forward at the onset. You figure you’ll gather this form and that form, find a few people to say nice things about you, get some fingerprints, pay a few fees, wait awhile and, voila, parenthood. You expect there’ll be a lot to track and do, but that it will be doable nonetheless. Anyone who has been down the road to adoption, particularly international adoption in a “post-Hague Convention” world, knows that the reality is something else altogether. Not to mention traveling this path while trying to retain some sanity.

This week we reached another fork in the road. Our agency informed us that while things are still moving in Armenia, they are moving very slowly. Emphasis on very. Since implementation of The Hague Convention, which sets forth guidelines and procedures to prevent abduction, exploitation, sale, or trafficking of children, international adoption has slowed to a snail’s pace. We hear that adoptions in China are now taking 37 months, after dossier submission. The U.S. has closed the door, indefinitely, for several countries that are not “Hague-compliant,” such as Guatemala and Vietnam .

We were proud to choose a country that is Hague-compliant and happy to find a reputable agency that is also Hague-accredited. But I will tell you that it has been a wild ride.

International home studies required child abuse clearances from each state we’d lived in, which between Big Papa and I was nine. Hague was newly implemented in April, and states were changing policies right and left. We filed and re-filed our California clearances three times. Colorado returned Big Papa’s clearance, along with the check for $15 he’d written on August 15. They had raised their fee to $30…on August 15!

Then, just as I was about to send our home study to USCIS (U.S. Center for Immigration Service) along with our I-800a (U.S. government for permission to adopt an international orphan), I noticed our home study agency’s notary had a nearly expired license. Two more weeks passed before finding a notary whose license would be good for at least six months, and our home study was revised and reprinted. Pre-Hague, waiting times for I-800a approval had been 30 days. We began hearing that I-800s were being rejected for a multitude of revisions needed, and the process was taking upwards of four months. Submitting ours with a notary whose license might expire in that time period would not be a wise step.

Now that we’ve learned that the process is going to take longer than we first thought, what do we do? Cross our fingers and hope that this will be one long hiccup but we’ll still “get there?” Abandon Armenia and try for another country that our agency represents? Change our parameters for the type of child we’ll consider? My head is swimming with questions and uncertainty.

“When we walk to the edge of all the light we have and take the step into the darkness of the unknown, we must believe that one of two things will happen. There will be something solid for us to stand on or we will be taught to fly.”

~Patrick Overton